The Continuing Saga of the Mary Sue Continuum
by snooky-9093
Summary: Two sisters accidentally get transported to another time and place. Their only wish: To be sent home. And that their house had fallen on Hitler. Which didn't happen. A Mary Sue Experiments sequel.
1. Chapter 1

This is a continuation of _The Mary Sue Experiments_, which was published in 2008. At the end of the story, Hogan, Hochstetter and Klink were thrown forward into our time. I'm still waiting for a resolution. Meanwhile, another author, Oboe, got a hold of the time travel device, and went back to Stalag 13 for an adventure. She then passed it on to another "unsuspecting" author...

_written by: Snooky-9093 (Susan) with help from her sister, Ruth_

Chapter one

"What is this? The Sisterhood of the Traveling Time Travel Device?" This comment was made to no one in particular. The only other living being in my house at the time I received the device, which was lovingly wrapped in a very nice box, was my dog; and all she did was wag her tail and tilt her head. This of course was very cute, so I put down the box and got her a treat.

I returned to the gift. After placing the pouch and watch on the table, I rummaged through the tissue paper. "Aha! A note!" _Hope_ _you enjoy your adventure in the past as much as I did. Oboe._

"Cute!"

Now, I am a skeptic. I don't believe in ghosts, the supernatural, paranormal activities or poltergeists. I enjoy science fiction, I tend to think scrambling molecules, rather than taking a bus, is a bit far-fetched. And time travel…well, with all due respect to Einstein, it tends to give me a headache. Although, I did think Star Trek's time travel episodes were the best.

I read _The Mary Sue Experiments_ about two years ago, and I enjoyed Oboe's little "adventure." So…someone actually came up with a fake watch. Was there a picture of it on the group page? Can't remember. Well, whatever…Oboe…such a nice person…obviously sent this to me to cheer me up. I haven't been writing, or using the computer much, which is rather depressing. Not even in one of my notebooks. My muse took a hike. I wonder who sent it to her? Another Canadian writer most likely. (They are so polite!)

Curious, I turned it over. Just like Oboe had described, there was a rear compartment. "Someone went to a lot of trouble," I muttered. I opened up the back. "Cool." There was the tool! I started to fiddle around with the watch; setting certain periods for fun. December 7, 1941. No. Hogan probably wasn't there. . May 8, 1945? Hopefully liberated. I chuckled. I know. I'm attempting to write a Boswell and Garrett sequel that takes place in February 1945. But like I said, I'm stuck. February 20, 1945. Maybe looking at the watch will inspire great thoughts! But for now, I need to get dressed and get the day going. I placed the watch and box on the desk next to my notebook and headed upstairs.

Well, the watch was working. I managed to write a bit each night now for 2 weeks. This put me in a better mood, especially when I reread some of what I had written, and laughed at my sense of humor. And now my sister was coming to visit, so perhaps I would be able to get some of the first chapters typed in. Yup. Life is good!

Ruth, who finds everything I write freaking hilarious (at least the comedies) was again, laughing hard at Boswell and Garrett's antics. This morning, she was seated at the desk, her usual cup of tea in her left hand, right hand on the mouse. She had just typed in chapter one and was checking it over.

"Any idea where this is going?" she asked.

"Not a clue." I replied. "I just keep going and hope for the best. I actually ended up crossing out four pages, because I changed my mind about something to do with Newkirk and Carter. I don't think it makes sense."

She nodded. "Okay. Go with your instinct. Hey, what's this?" She picked up the watch.

"Crap, I forgot to tell you about that. Remember Oboe, the woman from Canada who wrote that great story last year?"

"_Executions_?" Ruth took another sip of her tea.

"Yes, that's her. She sent me this. It's a prop that was something like they all wrote about in the _Mary Sue Experiments_. She wrote a sequel because she wasn't around then and wanted a chance to travel back to Stalag 13." I put quotes around travel. "She said at the end of it that she would pass it on to other authors. I guess I was the first! Isn't it cool?"

"February 1945!" Ruth exclaimed. "You couldn't pick the summer?"

"No. I wanted it to inspire me because I was stuck with this story. And it worked."

"How do you set it?"

"Wasn't easy. Just leave it." I was touching her shoulder, when Ruth absentmindedly rubbed the front of the watch.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"This isn't a fake," I stated a few moments later, after Ruth and I found ourselves next to a snow bank situated near a small set of trees. Then I started to panic.

"Eee." All Ruth could get out was a cross between a scream, a wail and a squeal. Then she wrapped her arms around herself. "No kidding."

"I'm freezing." My teeth started to chatter.

"Help." My sister cried.

"Shhhh." I warned her. "What if there are patrols?"

"Uhh. "You're the expert. What do we do now?"

"Move." I started jumping up and down to get warm. Pajama bottoms are cozy, but not meant for sub-freezing temperatures.

"Where?" Ruth whispered.

She looked like she was about to cry. I could see it.

I wasn't thinking and froze. Panic again set in as a lump began to form in my throat. I sniffed.

"Get a hold of yourself." She gave me a push.

"You get a hold of yourself," I countered. "You're older, you figure something out." I knew that sounded extremely juvenile and ridiculous, but like I said, I was panicking.

"That's stupid. Besides, I'm not the one doing mounds of research and ordering books off of Amazon. Susan, what now?"

"We'll head towards that." I pointed to what was obviously the POW camp. "Turn ourselves in, at the gate. Klink will have to get Hogan, and he'll realize who we are and send us home."

"Just like Dorothy?"

"Yes."

"The wizard took off without her. Remember? That's the stupidest idea I ever heard. What if Klink turns us over to someone? We would be doomed."

"So what do you suggest?" I couldn't believe we were still arguing. "Clicking our heels three times and saying there's no place like home?"

I started to jump up and down again to keep warm.

"The trunk?" Ruth asked.

"The trunk!" I felt like such an idiot. I think the other authors used the trunk, so it had to be here somewhere. "Let's start looking before we freeze to death."

"We stay together?" Ruth pleaded.

"Together." I grabbed her hand. "Let's go."

* * *

"You two looking for something?"

"Oh, Thank God!" We found ourselves staring at what was obviously one of the prisoners. I had no idea who, but he was dressed as a civilian and spoke perfect English.

We both started talking at once.

"The tree trunk," Ruth blurted out.

"Time travel. Accident," I chattered. "Help?"

"Let's get you two inside before you freeze," the man said politely. "Come on." A few seconds later, he flung us down into the brush. "Sorry, ma'ams," he whispered. "Hear it? Patrols."

"Okay," he whispered about a minute later. "Over here." He motioned with his hand, and we eagerly followed him to a trunk. It was well-disguised, and I realized that chances are we would have been wandering around forever or caught if it wasn't for our new knight in shining armor.

"Thank you." I was so cold, I completely forgot about my ladder phobia, and quickly climbed down. Even Ruth, with her bad ankle, was in a hurry.

"Boy, the colonel is not going to be happy about this," the airman muttered, as he helped my sister off the final rung.

"We aren't either," Ruth replied. "We just want to get home."

"Well," the man chuckled. "It does look like you did come by accident, seeing as how you're dressed. Maybe he'll go easy on ya. No torture or trips to the cooler."

I whined.

"Ma'am. I'm kidding."

"Of course you are." I shivered again and stamped my feet. The tunnel was dark, cold and damp. I really didn't care about exploration at the moment. Although I'm not claustrophobic, and neither is Ruth, we were both, as usual, on the same wavelength. Terrified and nervous. "Um, thanks again. Mr.…."

"Olsen, ma'am. Sergeant Olsen."

Ruth poked me in the ribs. "Your buddy," she whispered.

"You two twins?" Olsen asked.

"No. I'm the older one," Ruth replied. Now that our eyes were getting accustomed to the light, we both began to look around. "Is LeBeau here?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's around. Why?"

"I speak French."

"Really," I said to her. "Really? We are stuck in the middle of a war zone, in World War 2, no less, and that's all you can think about? Honestly?"

"Well," she replied. "I can't help it."

I gave up. She was always like this. I turned at looked at Olsen. "Sergeant. If you could please get a hold of whomever is hiding the device, so we can please get home, immediately, if not sooner, I would really, really appreciate it and I promise if you do that, I will never, ever, kill you off again in another story, as long as I keep writing them."

Olsen didn't respond. He just shook his head and muttered something to the effect of us writers being nuts, or something like that. "Come this way. I'll get you some blankets." We walked a bit until we came upon a pile of supplies. Warm clothing, hats, gloves, and blankets piled high against a wall. Olsen reached up and grabbed two blankets which he handed to us. We wrapped them around ourselves, and then continued following the sergeant through a maze of tunnels. Eventually he stopped us at a bend. We could hear noises coming through, and could vaguely see that the tunnel system expanded at this point.

"I don't think he took us through the normal way," I whispered to Ruth.

"How would you know?" she commented.

"Wait here," Olsen ordered. "I'll be right back."

"Don't leave us…" I was about to say, alone…but obviously Olsen knew better. Within seconds another prisoner appeared.

"Morning. Ma'am," he said politely. He turned to my sister. "Ma'am."

I gave the young man a wan smile. He didn't look more than 22 or 25. It wasn't a few moments later that I noticed how thin he was. I guessed a good 15 pounds underweight, perhaps. I didn't have my watch on, but I estimated about 5 minutes passed before we heard movement.

"I bet Olsen got Colonel Hogan," Ruth said. She still sounded nervous. I didn't blame her. I had no idea who or what would show up next. And I certainly was in no shape to face an angry colonel, or anyone else for that matter. Not unless they held the time device. For that I probably would have given away military secrets and the hell with the prime directive.

"How could this happen?" she asked me.

"How do I know? Wait, I bet that Gene Roddenberry was actually from outer space, like that article I read years ago, said…and he actually planted ideas, and you can slingshot around the sun, or use orbs from transwarp conduits, or it's the Borg. (1)

"I don't think he came up with the Borg," Ruth huffed. "I wish I had a towel."

"Good point," I agreed. "Just in case we're trapped while someone reads us bad poetry."

"You twins?" the soldier asked.

"No." I hoped Colonel Hogan would get here real soon, and straighten things out, since the lump was again forming in my throat.

Ruth sniffed.

"I'm sorry." I went over and gave her a hug.

"Here they come." The soldier had been peering around a corner, where for the time being, we were obviously not wanted. There was a lot of noise in the tunnels. I figured they must have been up to something.

"Sir, they've been no trouble," I heard him report. Then I think he whispered. "I think they're scared."

"Thanks, Corporal."

Two men entered the cavity. One, I guessed was Carter. It didn't quite look like the actor, but he was young, thin, and was wearing sergeant's stripes. Oh, and the sewn on his shirt sort of gave it away. The other, without a doubt was Hogan. Older, still handsome, and like Carter, Olsen and the other soldier, thinner than he should have been. Sort of like Bob Crane, but with a difference. Harsher, perhaps. More serious. Yeah, I think the authors from the original visit mentioned harsher.

"Hi." I was nervous, so that came out in a squeak. "We got here by accident," I said quickly.

"That's obvious," Hogan said. "You twins?"

"Pajamas?" Carter asked. "Hey, who's that on your pants?"

"Oh, that? Actually these used to be Sara's. That's my youngest. She's a freshman in college."

"You're rambling." Hogan looked a bit amused.

"Sorry. I'm scared. That's SpongeBob Squarepants. From a TV show. He…"

"Lives in a pineapple under the sea." Hogan blurted this out. A look of confusion quickly passed over his face, and then disappeared.

Ruth and I exchanged a look. "Later," I mouthed.

"Never mind," Hogan quickly changed the subject. He eyeballed us for a moment. "Carter, go grab some clothes for them. And shoes." He sighed.

"What size?"

"Small," both Ruth and I said at the same time.

"Shoes, we mean.,

"Back in a jiff, ladies."

"You two can't stay down here right now." Hogan sighed. "You people must have a screw lose or something. You know how many of you…well, never mind," he repeated. "Olsen." the sergeant had mysteriously and quietly reappeared. "Take them upstairs and hide them in my office. We can't help what they'll see. I'll be right there."

"This way, please. And watch your step. We have a lot of guests."

Ruth looked at me quizzically. I shrugged. "Late in the war," I whispered. "Could be an overflow or lots of escapees. But, neither of us was prepared for what we saw a moment later as we turned the corner.

* * *

(1) _I did not make this up_. There was actually some guy from Texas that had a theory that Gene Roddenberry, the creator of _Star Trek _was either actually an alien or got information from real aliens. I can't find the article at the moment, although it did exist. I think it popped up somewhere in the 90's. If anyone has a working link to it, please PM me.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews! This chapter does get a bit serious for a while.

Chapter 3

The tunnels were literally packed with men on cots, and men propped up against the wall. Other men were circulating, performing what looked to be nursing duties. Some were feeding the guests what looked to be hot soup, and others were wrapping the patient's feet with bandages. The men were so thin; it reminded me of, well, never mind.

Ruth took in a breath. "Mon dieu."

"Oh, my…Sergeant, what…"

"This way, ladies. Quickly. We don't want to have you passing on any germs." He hustled us down the corridor.

The sick men paid no attention to us. That was the scariest thing of all. The sight of two women, dressed in pajamas, even if we old enough to be the mothers of some of these men, should have at least garnered some reaction. Nothing.

We climbed up a ladder and appeared in what was obviously barracks two. It looked somewhat like the room on television, except that the two-tier bunks were now replaced by three tiers. There was less room in between each bunk to accommodate the extra bed. All of the lower bunks were occupied, again, by sick or very thin men, but the rest of the prisoners were up and about, doing chores, or trying to keep warm.

"Don't tell me." A man came over to see us. "You got 'old of the watch. I would 'ave dressed more appropriately for the trip." He chuckled.

"Newkirk." I couldn't help but smile.

"In the flesh ladies." He turned to Ruth, and kissed her hand. "And you might be?"

She blushed. "Ruth."

"And you?"

"Susan."

"You twins?" He asked.

"No. She's the older one," I replied.

"Carter's looking for clothes," Olsen told him. "You got some sewing supplies up here?"

Newkirk went over to his footlocker, and brought out a small tin. "In 'ere." He handed it to me. "You'll need to make some adjustments."

_1940's_, I thought dejectedly. _They expect us to sew._ I wisely kept my mouth shut.

"Wait in here," Olsen took us into Hogan's office. He kept the door open.

Hogan had three bunks as well. Otherwise, the office looked almost the same as the Mary Sue authors described it. It was cold, however. Ruth and I sat down on the lower bunk. Now that we were alone, we recalled what we had heard and seen.

"First, what's with the SpongeBob comment?" she asked me in a quiet voice.

"At the end of the original story," I told her, "Hogan, and I think maybe Klink and Hochstetter, I really don't remember, ended up in our time. The authors never continued it from there, so I have no idea what happened. But it's obvious at least Hogan and Klink came back, because first of all, Hogan is here. And I think Oboe saw Klink. She came after the original story took place."

"He obviously saw or heard about the show."

"Yeah, he must have watched Nickelodeon at one point. But it looks like he blurted it out and had no idea why."

"He doesn't remember being in the future. But how?"

"I'm thinking."

"Think faster," Ruth urged. This could be important."

"Well, I'm a little upset. All those boys downstairs."

"I know. But, this has implications for how we speak to him."

"Right," I agreed. "Um." I was trying to think of everything I thought I knew about time travel. "_Back to the Future_."

"Oh, don't go there," Ruth said. "Marty remembered everything; but things changed."

"I know. But didn't his girlfriend forget stuff?" I asked.

"That was part two," she replied. "I didn't like that one. I liked the one with the train."

I groaned. "Star Treks…" I started to pace. "Think."

"_First Contact_." Ruth offered.

"Not good. I think they all knew. No wait! They went to the past. The people didn't travel to the future. Skip that one."

"I got it!" Ruth poked me. "The one with the cat. There was an astronaut or something, or pilot."

"Yes. They had to stop a missile launch. Gary Seven?"

"That's it!" She sound excited. "They transported this guy back to his plane the exact moment they accidently transported him out. And he didn't remember."

"You're right. So Hogan doesn't remember, but must have residual effects…I hope."

"Phew." Ruth's expression changed. "Now what's going on down below?"

"Here's my guess. It's awful, really. I think those are escaped POW's, but not from camps. From forced marches."

"Forced marches?"

"Towards the end of the war, in the dead of winter, the Nazis started emptying out a lot of camps, mainly out east, in advance of the Russians, and marched the POW's north and west. Sometimes for hundreds of miles, for days and weeks on end. Sometimes they were crammed into railcars. You know some got killed by the allies when the rail yards were bombed or the cars were strafed. They were already in bad shape from malnutrition. Sometimes stragglers would get away, or when they were spending the night in barns, churches, wherever, maybe they hid. I don't know. But I bet these are some of those guys. Maybe the underground picked them up and somehow got them here."

"Why not out?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. The fighting. Too dangerous."

"You read the original story, right?" Ruth asked. "Did they all make it back home?"

"I don't remember. I'm sorry," I said, as I saw her facial expression. "It was over 70 chapters, and it was over two years ago. I really don't know. They did tell Hogan about…" I quickly stopped the conversation as Colonel Hogan, Carter and a black man, who I assumed was Kinch, entered the room.

Carter handed us two sets of army clothes. "I hope these work for you." He then scurried out.

"Could you please fill these out?" It was Kinch. He handed us both a clipboard and a pencil. There was a form on each that was obviously a mimeograph. "Guess you've gotten used to us popping in," I said dejectedly. The forms asked our full names, our pen name. Age, health, and if we had any relatives currently serving on either side.

Ruth and I quickly answered the questions and handed the clipboards back to Kinch. He removed the papers and handed them to Hogan. Kinch then left, shutting the door behind him.

"Would you like to sit down?" Hogan asked, not impolitely.

Ruth and I took the two chairs that were there. He leaned up against the desk.

"You two know anything about this pineapple thing?" He was totally serious. "And that character?"

"Um." I said. "I think it's a cartoon from, Canada. Been around a long time."

"Quebec," Ruth said. "French Canadian."

"I don't believe you." Hogan said. "You aren't good liars."

"You're right. It's from our time. But you must have heard one of the other women talking about it. How else would you know? The song is kind of catchy." I started to sing the song. "See, easy to remember."

Hogan stood up straight and pointed his finger at me. "Order. Don"t…ever…sing…again…"


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks again for the reviews. And yes, I cannot sing. To clear something up: This does not co-exist with the Fanfiction Court universe. Two completely different things. This may be the last update for a bit because I need my sister's help with the French in the next chapter and I won't be seeing her until New Years. Unless she has an epiphany!_

Chapter 4

"I'm sorry, Colonel." I tried to look appropriately mollified.

Hogan let the comment go. I hoped he fell for the explanation.

"Let's have a look at this. Back problems. Allergies. Nothing we haven't dealt with.. Father in Royal Navy. Do you know where he is? Ships, bases, anything?"

"Sorry." Ruth answered. "He was on more than one ship for the Navy and Merchant Marine. Some got sunk. He could be anywhere right now."

"All right. I'll leave while you two get changed. And then we'll have a talk."

"Can't you get the watch?" Ruth asked. "We just want to go home. Right away. To be honest with you, this was an accident and we're terrified."

"Get changed." Hogan left and shut the door.

We did as he said and then looked at each other. The clothes were hanging off of us. Fortunately, Carter had given us each several pairs of socks, which we wore in hopes that the boots wouldn't be too loose. Needless to say, we were warmer, but not very comfortable.

There was a knock at the door.

"We're dressed." I went to the door and opened it.

"Good. That was quick." Hogan gave us a once over. "Good thing you have short hair," he muttered. "But I don't know if we would have drafted anyone your size. Oh, well."

"Um, excuse me. But can't we just have the watch so we can set it, and go home?"

"Well, Susan, that is a bit of a problem." Hogan ran his fingers through his hair and then waited for our reaction.

"What do you mean a problem?" I began to tremble again.

"You gave it back to London?" Ruth asked. "Why would you do that?"

"No, we didn't. I figured we needed to keep it here, in case more of you showed up. But Klink found it. Well, part of it. He has the watch. And we have the tool to set it."

I was speechless. How could that happen? It could never happen in the show. Well, except for Carter forgetting to put film in the camera. And Hogan falling for a trap. And a code book in a well. And…Never mind. I stopped thinking.

"And before you ask," Hogan continued. "We tried to find it. It isn't on him, in his safe, or in his quarters or his office. It's probably somewhere in camp, but so far, no one has found it. I have men working on it, even though we're a bit busy at the moment."

"Oh my God. So we're stuck here?"

"We can't stay here. Sue. Tell him that." Ruth gave me a push.

"Me? Where can we go?"

"You're stuck. I'm sorry. I believe you when you say this was an accident. I'll add some men to the search parties, ladies. Now I have some questions. Sit down. Oh, and please try and pull yourselves together. Crying or shaking or complaining won't change things."

We obeyed.

"You both writers?"

"No. I'm the writer. Ruth sometimes helps me, with typing and stuff."

"Who knows more about history? You, Susan. Correct?"

I nodded. "Ruth speaks French. Fluently."

"Really? That could be useful." Hogan jotted something down.

"What about you? Any languages?"

"No." I sunk down into the chair.

"Acting ability? Either of you?"

"No, and why are you asking that?" Ruth meekly asked. "We're not doing anything dangerous."

"Wouldn't expect you to." Hogan looked at the sheets, which didn't tell him much.

"Any medical training. Either of you."

Ruth shook her head.

"I had CPR, when my kids were small."

Hogan obviously knew what that was. He jotted that down. "I'll let our medics know."

"Colonel?" I had to ask. "What's going on? I have an idea, but we'd like to hear it from you."

"It's classified." Hogan was uncomfortable. He looked down at his hands, examining his fingernails, and then folded his arms, as he did on the show, and gave us a look.

"If we are going to be stuck here until you find that watch," Ruth said. "Then I think we have a right to know." She have him her best teacher/librarian look. I silently applauded her courage, as she sounded rather assertive.

I stood up and walked over to the man. I couldn't stare at him face to face. It was more like staring at the man's chest, seeing as he was at least a foot taller than I was. That scenario was a bit ridiculous, so I stepped back. That was better. He did intimidate a bit, that was true. I seemed to get tongue-tied when speaking with authority figures, especially high-ranking military men. Not politicians, just people who actually worked. But I had an edge. I could probably take the man to the cleaners if we were playing_ Jeopardy_ and the category was World War 2.

"Well?" I said with more bravery than I felt. "Please," I added.

"Do you two know about the forced marches?"

"More than I want to. And I told Ruth. So I was right?"

"I don't want to go into any more details," Hogan said. He gave me a look that meant business.

I figured it was a good time to change the subject. "Why don't you just ask him?" I said with more bravery than I felt.

Hogan looked down at me. "Ask who?"

"Klink. Tell him more of us dropped in and we want to go home."

"That could be a problem."

_Oh no_. "Why?"

"For some reason I can't explain, he doesn't remember having time travelers here...and since the mass invasion of all of you in '43, I've been pretty successful at keeping the rest of you under wraps."

"So you've had more than just us and Oboe?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Why would anyone come here on purpose?" Ruth asked.

"They're nuts." Hogan said calmly.

I nodded. "I agree with you. But how did he get the watch? It had to be after you sent the last one of us home."

"Two actually. There were two. It's a long story, and I really don't want to get into it. We'll keep looking for it, but until then, we have to do something with you."


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the delay. Trip to Florida interrupted. Saw my sister, but we didn't get much done, unfortunately. But you know, I can never leave a story unfinished...so I'm continuing as best I can. AT the end of chapter 4, Hogan needs to find something for us to do...and the tunnels are filled with a bunch of sick men rescued from a forced march. This story has not been checked over for punctuation and grammar, so apologies for any errors._

_Chapter 5_

Hogan went to the door and opened it. "Olsen, take these two over to the infirmary and have one of the medical staff check them out." He turned to us. "The best place for you is actually down below. I know it's cold, dark and damp, but it's safer. And if you check out okay, you can help out with some nursing duties."

"Okay," I said. Ruth didn't answer. I gave her a poke.

"Whatever you say."

"Good. We'll talk again." Hogan gave us a small grin, and then left the barracks.

"Let's go." Olsen went over to Kinch's bunk and pushed the mechanism. "It's better if we go through the tunnel," he said, as he helped us down. "It's quite a hike through here. Follow me."

We followed as he took us through what was a maze of tunnels. We were both trying to pay attention, but even with my good sense of direction, I was already lost. I figured Ruth was hopeless by the second turn. After what seemed forever, we came to a ladder.

"It's up here." Olsen led the way and took us into a building. There was no doubt where we were. 'Wait here."

"Full," I said to Ruth.

"Yeah."

The place was crammed with beds. You could barely walk. I spied Olsen returning with two men.

"These are our visitors. Mrs. Balkin and Mrs. Rubinstein. This is Captain Stein, the camp's doctor. And this is Corporal LeBeau. Been working on rations?"

"Trying to stretch out the soup," LeBeau said.

"Ladies."

Pleased to meet you, Captain." I said. "I'm surprised to see a doctor."

"Got here during the German offensive," he answered.

Excited to finally meet LeBeau, my sister began to speak rapidly in French. While Olsen took the doctor aside and spoke with him for a few minutes, Ruth and LeBeau continued to converse. I had no clue what they were saying, but LeBeau left her with a hug, and what I thought was a promise to talk later. Both LeBeau and Olsen wished us good luck and then left through the front door.

"There are a lot more French prisoners stuck here," Ruth told me. "Most of them live together, because of language issues."

"I'm not surprised," I replied. "Prisoners were usually separated by nationality."

"Come this way please." The doctor took us into an area and drew a curtain around us. "If you're going to be helping, I need to make sure you don't spread anything. That's an order."

"I don't mind." I looked around at the small examining area. There wasn't much. A couple of carts, an IV stand, a supply cabinet and a table.

"Neither do I." Ruth walked over to the table. I followed.

Our examination was cursory, thank goodness. He listened to our heart and lungs. Checked throats, glands and ears, and took a quick medical history.

"Well. I'm not happy with all the medicine you both are taking. You could have withdrawal symptoms. But there's not much I can do about it. I've got nothing here to replace it. I do have some pain medication, Susan, if your fibromyalgia, as you call it, acts up. Allergies. Stay away from cigarettes if possible and I'll have to make sure both of you get some fresh air time. I'll have to check with Colonel Hogan about that. Neither of you seem to be sick at the moment, so I'll clear you to help out down below. The medics will let you know what to do. Now...please sit down." The captain dragged over a couple of chairs. "You may know more than you think. Let me pick your brains, if you don't mind."

"Absolutely," Ruth perked up. She looked excited to finally being able to help. "Eleven years of MASH has to count for something."

I groaned. "Ruth, please watch what you say,"

"Right."

"I won't ask." Stein grinned. "We've got lots of malnutrition. Respiratory infections, including pneumonia, frostbite, hypothermia, depression, and lethargy…and some of these guys are suffering from what they've seen."

"Well, we call that PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder. But please forget the acronym. It's real and it needs treatment," I emphasized. "About the rest…" I started thinking.

"Do you have a supply of penicillin?" Ruth asked.

"No. We had a drop several weeks ago. But it's all gone."

"Red Cross packages delayed?"

"How did you know, Susan? The last packages came in 3 weeks ago. We're under strict rationing. Even the guards aren't getting enough. The civilians in town are suffering."

'History, research," I answered. "Without our 21st supplies, I don't think I can help you. And we really have no medical training. We don't want to make anything worse."

"Thanks for trying. Well…Let me take you below then. Follow me."

"Wait!" I stopped Ruth and the doctor. "I may have an idea."

"Go ahead." He stopped at the tunnel entrance that was hidden behind a supply cabinet.

"On the show, the dogs were friendly to the prisoners, but not to the Germans. Is that the case here as well?"

"Yes. They can't stand the sight of the German uniforms, and they also know most of the prisoners."

"Maybe we can use the dogs to warm up the men and even give them some psychological help."

"Dogs? I don't know." He looked skeptical.

"Dogs are used as service animals for people with emotional problems," Ruth chimed in. "Injured veterans, people with anxiety. They bring them into hospitals and nursing homes."

"Really?" The doctor stroked his chin. "Let me check with LeBeau about that. He'll have to ask the dog handler. But if they're cleaned up first, it's worth a shot."

* * *

A/N _Ruth really has no sense of direction. I don't see a problem with some of the nationalities bunking together in this camp. They aren't separated by barbed wire or anything, but the prisoners who are there the longest might naturally be in the same barracks. The cigarettes. The original time travelers may have tried to talk some sense in Hogan and the medical staff. _


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Wilson was a bit more talkative than the character that graced us with 30 seconds of screen time in "Operation Briefcase." He seemed, in fact, a bit bemused when he was introduced to us in the infirmary. "Here." He threw us some rope. "Use this to hold up your pants. And tuck in your shirts."

The sergeant obviously knew about the time device. "Try not to ask the men any detailed questions," he warned. "And for God's sake, watch what you say." He then called over an assistant. "White. Take these ladies below and show them around. Don't ask how they got here."

The medic raised his eyebrows, mumbled a "pleased to meet you," and took off towards the hidden entrance. We quickly followed.

The smell got to us first. Ruth was trying not to gag, and I was grateful to find a handkerchief stuck in the pocket of my pants to use to cover my mouth. White quickly took us over to the tunnel washroom, which Oboe had described as a "bathroom" of sorts, but which was off limits to everyone but the medical staff, and now the two of us, apparently. There were too many soldiers in the tunnel and if everyone made a run for it, as White said, it would have been a disaster. So the medics and volunteer nurses were making do with a few bedpans and other assorted devices scrounged up in the meantime.

"You ever empty bedpans?" he asked me. I nodded. "Okay. If you need to, give it to one of the guys over there." He pointed to a group of enlisted men working with the patients. I decided not to ask for any more details regarding the sanitation system. Best not to know.

"Ma'am." He looked at Ruth. "You can help with feedings. Not too much at once." She breathed a sigh of relief at getting the easier duty. I couldn't blame her. She never had children. Although it's been years, I was used to diapers and spit-up. Ruth walked over to one of the soldiers who were spooning out broth from a large kettle.

All of the soldiers, including the patients, were unfailingly polite. The rank and file weren't told who we were. In this camp, they learned fast not to assume anything or ask anything. The rescued POW's were either too weak to care, or probably assumed we were captured nurses. Only Wilson and the doctor had a clue.

"These all Americans?" I figured knowing the nationality of these poor men would help.

White nodded.

I swallowed, took a deep breath and gamely headed over to the first group of men. There were about ten of them propped up against the dirt wall which was supported by wooden beams and lit by some form of fuel. However, the tunnels were still dark and damp. Stating the obvious, I told White, "This dampness isn't good."

"We know. But we developed a system. As soon as someone is stable, he's being sent up top. Someone up top comes down here to work and stay."

"They're being switched?"

"That's right, Ma'am. Most of them are ending up in the infirmary. Some of them are going to the barracks. The healthiest volunteers are coming down here to work."

_Ingeniou_s, I thought. "But won't the barracks guards know?"

"We've been swamped with new prisoners. They're too busy counting to care. And we've got bribes. They don't ask and we don't tell."

I looked for Ruth. She was working over by another group. It appeared she was getting the hang of the feedings. At least she didn't run.

I took a deep breath and then walked over to the first man. Kneeling down hurt my knees, so I sat next to him and softly asked, "Do you need anything?"

"Are you a nurse?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'm doing what I can to help out. I shouldn't be here, but I'm lucky they found us. Like you." I figured that was a good answer. "Here." I tucked the blanket in a bit more and moved on to the next man. I grabbed the bucket he had filled and brought it over to the group of soldiers working on the sanitary problem. I then walked back over to our washroom to get some air.

These steps were repeated throughout the morning. Some of the men talked about their unit and their families. None spoke about what had happened to them and following Wilson's instructions, I didn't ask.

Several hours later, we were found by Carter and told to head up top.

Carter pulled over two chairs and placed them at the small table set up in the middle of the barracks. "We made you some lunch."

LeBeau walked over with two covered plates. "It's not much." He placed the plates in front of us, while another resident brought over two cups of water.

"I don't think we should be taking your food." Ruth looked up at Louis. We had seen piles of Red Cross packages stored in the tunnels, but certainly not enough to keep everyone's calorie count up.

"Yes, ma'am." Carter insisted. "Everyone has to eat. We don't know how long you'll be here and we don't want anyone getting sick." He removed the covers.

LeBeau had made us something out of powdered eggs, spam and canned fruit.

"Ruth, don't drink the water!" I stopped her before she took a sip. "I think you should boil this," I told LeBeau. "We could get sick. We're not used to it. Even at home, when we travel, sometimes a change in the water doesn't agree with us."

LeBeau grabbed the cups, and handed them over to Newkirk, who had just walked into the building.

"I'll make you some tea," he said.

It wasn't good, but it was hot. Ruth and I sipped the beverage gratefully, and ate the meal LeBeau had prepared. The man was definitely talented.

"Any word on the watch?" I asked Newkirk.

"Sorry. You'll 'ave to ask the Colonel. I think he headed over to Klink's office to sound him out."

"I know he'd give it to us, if he only knew. He didn't seem like such a bad sort." I deliberately left out that the last thing I remember Klink doing was showing up in our time, looking for one of the authors.

"Well, ma'am. A story is one thing." Carter said. "But then there's reality."

"He'd probably turn you over to the Gestapo." Kinch, who had silently snuck up on us, was carrying a massive amount of what appeared to be paperwork. He entered Hogan's office and dumped it on the desk.

'Anything we can help with?" Ruth asked eagerly when he returned to the common room. I know she was trying her best, but taking care of sick soldiers appeared to be taking a toll.

"It's some filing and new prisoner cards." Kinch answered. "On top of everything else, Colonel Hogan basically runs this place. The other officers help out, but he has the final authority over everything. And this stuff gets filed up here. The confidential stuff is down below."

"We're good with filing!" Ruth flashed an eager smile.

"Ruth. I'm not filing, typing or doing anything clerical. It will kill my back."

"What's the matter with your back, Ma'am?"A young soldier hopped down from the top bunk. I recognized him as caring for the sick men resting in the bottom bunks.

"Back strain." I swear Ruth had a gleam in her eye. Nothing like a good office mess to cheer her up. "What's your name?" I asked the soldier.

"Corporal O'Reilly, Ma'am."

I almost spit out my drink.

The corporal, who was at least 5'10", and was not wearing glasses, gave me a quizzical look. "Do you know any O'Reilly's, ma'am?"

"No. Not personally. Um, I hurt my back when I fell off a horse a long time ago. And now it's coming back to haunt me."

"Told you horses were dangerous." Newkirk poked Carter in the ribs.

"I've never had a problem with them," he responded. "It's how you bond with them. It's the same with all animals."

"They're big and scary, Carter." Newkirk grabbed the kettle and started to refill our mugs.

Kinch was staring at us. "You can put the files in alphabetical order and then interfile them with the rest." He took us into the office and pulled out a crammed drawer.

"Well, the first problem you have here is that your drawers are too full. How can you find anything?" Ruth started removing files and placing them on the table.

Intrigued, I walked over and opened another cabinet. "Oy, what a mess." I began to remove files as well. "I can't resist."

Kinch was trying not to smile, but he couldn't help it. "Just don't read anything," he said. He then left us alone with the filing disaster, which truth be told, temporarily cheered us up.

We both stood there. While Ruth was looking at the big picture, trying to figure out how to straighten up the mess, I was thinking: _historical goldmine._ What I could do with this information. I put my story aspirations on the back burner and went over to the table. The pile Kinch had dumped on us contained new prisoner cards that had to be interfiled. There were two cards for each prisoner, one to file in the top drawer; the second went in another drawer which held all the barracks information. Ruth and I knocked off that task in 15 minutes. We then tried to figure out how to make the drawers more accessible.

"Envelopes! What is it with men and keeping envelopes?" Ruth exclaimed in exasperation.

"Tell me about it," My husband was an envelope hoarder. I walked over and opened some files. "See this? They've been folding papers. I bet I should ask them if they really need these envelopes." I walked into the common room and approached Carter." Excuse me. Is there any reason why the envelopes in the file cabinet are being saved? They are taking up way too much space."

"I don't know, ma'am. I'll take a look." Carter followed me into Hogan's office. He walked over to the file cabinet and stared at its contents.

Ruth pulled out a file. "If you take the papers out of the envelopes, place them flat in the file and get rid of the envelopes, you'll save a lot of space."

"There is nothing on these envelopes," I pointed out.

Carter looked confused. "I suppose," he said hesitantly, "but to tell you the truth, I'm more comfortable around explosives."

"I'm getting rid of these," Ruth said. We started rearranging the files.

"Don't throw out any paper," I told her. "They probably have a shortage and can use these for letters or notes."

"I was thinking the same thing," Ruth agreed.

We put the scrap paper in a tidy pile and left it on the table.

We methodically worked our way through the two cabinets. There was nothing secretive about the information, but it was interesting. The drawers included duty rosters, work schedules, payments to enlisted men for work provided, recreation hall schedules and other minutia. Disciplinary reports and copies of letters sent to the Red Cross were also in there. Despite the cold, we worked up a sweat.

We were just finishing up our work, when we got the scare of our lives.


	7. Chapter 7

.

_Chapter 7_

Sirens started blaring. "Air raid!" someone shouted.

We stood frozen, petrified. Olsen ran into Hogan's office. "You need to get underground!" He hustled us out and towards the bunk entrance. The men in the barracks had run outside.

Olsen prodded us quickly down the ladder, into the radio room and under the table. He told us to stay there until the all-clear.

We were joined underneath by one of the medics. Chivalry wasn't dead in 1945 and women's lib was the furthest thing from my mind as the corporal protected us with his body.

A few moments later, we felt and heard the sound of war for the very first time. Explosions could be heard in the distance, as the ground began to shake. Dirt rained down from the ceiling of the tunnel.

The medic tried to console us. "This tunnel system hasn't collapsed in a while. We're probably safer in here than in the ditches."

"What do you mean it hasn't collapsed in…in… a while?" Ruth stammered.

"Months maybe. But not this section," the medic quickly added. "Anyway, all the prisoners have to leave the barracks during an air raid. We have ditches dug out in the back." (1)

The air raid seemed to last forever. Both Ruth and I were literally shaking. Intellectually, I knew that the bombers were going for industrial sites or railroads near the town, and were fully aware of the location of the POW camp. But that knowledge did not calm me down. Planes could be shot down; bombs could miss their mark. Ruth and I were so scared that we were unable to talk.

The medic, whose name was Joseph Malkin, tried to ask us some questions. "Tell me, ladies. Who's your favorite bandleader?"

"Um. Um." I wasn't having a senior moment. I was too terrified to think.

"Paul McCartney." Ruth grabbed hold of my hand so tightly she began to draw blood.

"I haven't heard of him. Is he new?" Malkin asked.

"Very," I managed to say. "Um. I like Glenn Miller."

"Do you have a favorite song, ma'am?"

This I knew. "Moonlight Serenade." I then sniffed, and wiped my eyes. At first I couldn't believe I was actually crying. Nah. I could believe it.

As I said this, I spied several men, dressed in black, heading back through the tunnel towards the outside entrance. They were obviously going out on a rescue mission.

A moment later, as the dust kept flying, the young medic began to sing.

_I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight.  
I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night.  
The roses are __sighing__ a Moonlight Serenade. _

"Do you know the words, ma'am?"

Sometimes, humor will somehow break through during the worst of circumstances. "No. Besides, Colonel Hogan gave me a direct order not to sing." I offered a small smile. I knew what this soldier was trying to do.

He continued.

_The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming.  
My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?  
I bring you and sing you a Moonlight Serenade._

Another nearby explosion brought down more dust. I may have whimpered.  
_  
Let us stray till break of day  
in love's valley of dreams.  
Just you and I, a summer sky,  
a heavenly breeze kissing the trees._

_So don't let me wait, come to me tenderly in the June night._  
_I stand at your gate and I sing you a song in the moonlight,_  
_a love song, my darling, a Moonlight Serenade._

"Vous avez une belle voix." (_You__ have a nice voice_) Ruth was so scared she was thinking in French.

"Pardon?" Malkin shifted his weight away from us. "It's stopped."

Sure enough, there was silence.

We didn't hear an all-clear, but the prisoners who had stayed in the tunnels were obviously told that the air raid was over and it was safe. One came over to the table and helped us out. Miraculously, the lighting was still on and the tunnels were intact. I couldn't say the same for our emotional state. Ruth and I clung to each other and found an empty spot near a wall where we tried to regain our composure.

It us a while, but we eventually headed back to our nursing duties and were working for an hour or so, when we spied Colonel Hogan and Kinch coming towards us. We were ignored as the two headed over to the radio. We could tell Hogan was furious. Apparently, some of the bombs had fallen a little too close for comfort. We listened as Hogan complained to someone on the other end. He then began to pace back and forth.

I drew up some nerve and approached the colonel. "Excuse me. Do you have a minute?"

"Mrs. Rubinstein," he quickly replied. "Now isn't the best time. We're waiting for some men to get back."

I was persistent. "So, you didn't get a chance to speak with Klink about the…"

Hogan gave me a look. "Not now." He walked away.

"Don't take it personally, ma'am." Malkin handed me a thermometer. "Can you take temps?"

"Sure," I said dejectedly.

"They've been out longer than normal," Malkin continued. "He's antsy."

I was just about to take temps, when I realized I didn't have a watch. "Um, excuse me." I turned to look for one of the medics, when Wilson and Malkin left their charges and ran towards the tunnel entrance, while another medic headed towards the radio room, where Kinch and Hogan were impatiently waiting for their men to return.

"They're back," I heard the medic say.

They were indeed back. It was Carter, Olsen and Newkirk that had gone out, and they had brought back with them two injured men.

"Sorry it took so long, Colonel." Carter gently helped place one of the men onto a table. "We were trapped by a patrol."

It appeared that the two men had been hit by flak as they had parachuted out of their plane.

In addition to having to deal with the sick men in the tunnels, Ruth and I were now faced with actual blood. Neither of us handled this real-life introduction to _Grey's Anatomy_ rather well, and we both backed away.

"Oh my God." I started taking some deep breaths, as I leaned up against a wall. Ruth was turning a nasty shade of pale. We both felt utterly helpless.

Someone had fetched Dr. Stein, and in addition to Wilson and Malkin, he began to work on the fliers.

The small makeshift emergency room turned into a scene of organized chaos. Colonel Hogan, who had regained his temper, hovered around the area. This was his sanctuary, and the two injured men were now under his command. His concern for them was etched on his face.

* * *

(1) I discovered this bit of information while doing research on POW's and the camps. More than one memoir mentioned this. Unfortunately, there was more than one instance of POW's killed by Allied bombing raids.

_Moonlight Serenade _copyright 1939 original music by Glenn Miller and subsequent lyrics by Mitchell Parish.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

"Looks like you two could use some air." I turned around and found Newkirk standing behind us.

"Are those two going to be all right?" I asked.

"I reckon so," he replied. "It looks worse than it is. You two have been down 'ere most of the day. Time for a breather. Doctor's orders." Newkirk grinned and quickly headed down another tunnel corridor. "This goes to the recreation hall," he explained. "It's closed at the moment, so it's safe."

"Is there any place you don't have a tunnel entrance?" Ruth, who, as usual, was lagging behind, asked the corporal.

"Let me think….No, I don't think so. Wait… the guards' latrines and showers. I think that's it."

"Wow," was all I could say. "How long did that take you to dig all that?"

"Years." Newkirk smiled. "Have to cover all the bases, as you Yanks say. Right. 'Ere we are."

We climbed up a ladder and emerged inside a long, large building. This rec hall was a lot bigger than the one in the show. Although it was late afternoon, it was still light out, and we both blinked in response to the brightness in the room.

"Go ahead. You can look around." Newkirk walked over to the door and stood watch while Ruth and I explored.

Games and sports equipment were neatly stored on several stacks of shelves alongside the far wall. There was a ping pong table set up in the center of the room, as well as a large table that held a half-finished jigsaw puzzle. To the front of the long building stood a stage, complete with what looked like homemade curtains. A piano was stored in a corner. Behind that was a drum set, which made me think of Bob Crane. A shelving unit filled with musical instruments stood alongside the drums.

"Does Colonel Hogan play the drums?"

Newkirk gave me a weird look. "No. He isn't musically inclined as they say. But he is a good sport. He did a spoof in one of our pantomimes."

It was the other long wall that garnered most of our interest. That held a record collection and a small library. The audiovisual collection included a movie projector and two record players. (1)

"All the comforts of home," Newkirk said sarcastically as he continued to keep watch.

"I think it's better than some other camps." Too quickly, I realized my faux pas. "Please forget I said that," I told Newkirk.

"Already gone. If you ladies will come over here and put on your caps, we'll step outside."

Although I wanted some fresh air and I'm sure Ruth did as well, going out made me nervous and I hesitated.

Newkirk sensed my fear and reassured us. "It's safe. I wouldn't take you out there now, would I, if it wasn't. The colonel would 'ave my guts for garters, then wouldn't 'e?"

"You sound like my grandfather," Ruth said wistfully.

"I do? Where's 'e from then?"

"East End. He was a Cockney. Our Dad was born on Brady Street. (2)

We all silently thought about London, the Blitz and the friends and relatives we lost. Newkirk then brought us back to earth and opened the door. "Pull your caps down a bit. There you go."

Ruth and I then got our first real look at the camp.

We weren't impressed. I don't know what I was expecting, but the place did not bring to mind the words friendly, warm, welcoming and cozy. There were two sets of barbed wire fences placed around the perimeter. Guard towers holding actual guards, holding actual rifles, were spread out evenly around the outside of the camp. The barracks were indeed smaller than most of the barracks described in memoirs, and they were inexplicably flush with the ground. (3) A lot of prisoners were out in the yard, which, from what I could tell, was a bit muddy and pockmarked, probably from a freeze-thaw cycle of fall and winter weather. There was a wooden pathway winding its way throughout the camp. I couldn't recall if it was _Stalag 17_ or _Von Ryan's Express_ that had the guards placing a temporary path down for their not so pleasant Kommandant, but the sight of the sidewalk made me let out a small smile.

"What's so funny?" Ruth asked me.

"The sidewalk. Looks like Klink was a bit nicer than the creeps in some of the movies. Letting them build this for everyone, that is."

"Actually," Newkirk said. "It was Colonel Hogan's idea. And he had an ulterior motive."

"Ah. I get it." I nodded. "Care to let us in on the secret?"

"No, ma'am." Newkirk lit a cigarette and leaned up against the wall.

It was beginning to get dark, and of course, colder. But the fresh air that we were now breathing felt good. I was feeling more comfortable, and became reluctant to head inside. Ruth, I could tell, felt the same way.

"Those are going to kill you," she admonished Newkirk.

He removed the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out. "What is it now with all you birds coming here and lecturing us about the evils of smoking? Every one of you. Every time." He shook his head.

"Surgeon General's report." I answered without hesitation.

"You want details?" Ruth asked.

"No, ignorance is bliss," the corporal said. "Try being in these circumstances for an extended period of time, and you'll take it up. I guarantee it."

"I doubt it." I chuckled. "Besides, we won't be here too long."

"Care to make a wager?"

"What do you mean, wager. You know something we don't?" Ruth moved closer to Newkirk.

"Just joking, ladies." Newkirk quickly moved us against the wall and then stepped in front of us.

"Newkirk, what are you doing?" I heard someone say.

The new arrival had an accent, and my heart began to race.

"Nothin' Schultz. Getting some air, that's all."

"And your friends." I could see a large stomach move from side to side. It appeared the German sergeant was peeking.

"Same," was the reply.

"I don't recall such short prisoners coming in. And I know who's in."

"And who's not, Schultz? And what's in and what's out. And what's hot. And what's what?"

"Yes. I…" Schultz, clearly either confused or wisely giving up, hesitated. "I know nothing. Get back to the barracks. It's beginning to get dark. Your little friends, too."

"Right away, Schultz."

Newkirk laughed, but I felt like I was about to faint from fear.

"That was too close," Ruth whined. "Can we go inside now?"

"Me, too."

"Come on. Take you back the way we came."

We followed Newkirk back into the rec hall and down into the tunnels, which were now beginning to feel like home.

* * *

(1) Bailey, Ronald H. Prisoners of war (World War II) Time-Life Books, c. 1981 A tremendous source, both in photos and prose describing the life and treatment of all prisoners in both the European and Pacific theaters. The recreation facilities described in this chapter were also found in this book.

(2) A Cockney is "A native of London, especially of the working class born in the East End, speaking a characteristic dialect of English. Traditionally defined as someone born within the sound of the bells of St. Mary-le-Bow church" My father quite often uses this same definition to describe my grandfather's background. The Brady Street tenements were cold-water walk-ups located in what was mainly a Jewish Ghetto. (My father was born in 1923) This location was quite close to all of the Jack-the-Ripper murders, a fact not unknown to my Dad and his school buddies, who literally ran as fast as they could to get past those streets on their way home from school.

(3) It always appeared that Stalag 13 was an escape waiting to happen. The small unraised barracks made tunnel digging easier. The woods were too close to the camp. The Kommandant's quarters and office were not fenced off. Etc. and so forth. Pictures of real camps mostly show long, large barracks that were off of the ground. If you watch movies depicting some of these camps, you will also notice that the prisoners were locked in at night. (quite a fire hazard) although they were able to find ways out.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter nine_

It was a short while later, that LeBeau came down below to look for us. He began to talk in French to Ruth

"Si vous pensez que vous êtes calmes, on veut descendre deux chiens." The two began speaking rapidly, too fast for me to translate in my head, but at the mention of the dogs, I could see Ruth's face light up. I walked over and asked LeBeau, "Are we getting the dogs?"

"Oui, madame. It's a good time to sneak them down. The guards are changing shifts. And there's a mess near the perimeter from the bombing.

Ruth then said in French, "Qu'est-ce que vous voulez dire, désordre? Tout le monde est sauf?" (What do you mean, mess? Is everyone okay?)

"Yes, but there is a bit of damage. Wait here. I'll be bringing down two dogs."

Several minutes later, Ruth and I were introduced to two female shepherds, Heidi and Ilsa. They were very friendly and seemed affectionate.

Ruth and I kneeled down and held out our hands. LeBeau let the dogs go and the two animals came over and sniffed. "Give them a pat," LeBeau urged. We stroked the dogs' heads and were rewarded with licks and wagging tails.

"They like you." LeBeau reached into his pocket and gave Heidi and Ilsa some treats.

"I will follow your lead," LeBeau said as he held onto their collars.

"We should go slowly," I mentioned to the corporal. "In case the men are afraid of the dogs. Seeing that they may have some nasty experiences with guard dogs in their camps or on their march," I added.

LeBeau nodded. He followed us into the tunnel area where the rescued prisoners were being billeted. "Come this way."

I walked over to a group propped up against the far wall. These men were hardier than the rest, but still malnourished and cold. They didn't react well to the sight of dogs. Some tried to scramble away.

"Oops," Ruth said sadly. "It's all right. They're friendly and they'll keep you warm." She knelt down and stroked Heidi's fur.

The men warily eyed us with suspicion as we brought the dogs over and sat down next to the men. The dogs snuggled next to us.

Within minutes, the sick men joined us and began to pet the dogs. LeBeau handed out treats to the rescued prisoners, who then gave them out, and to our relief, a few even stood up and came over to see what was happening. Shortly later, it was obvious that our pet therapy was a success. We began to rotate the dogs every half-hour, even leaving them with the sickest prisoners. The volunteer nurses took over, as we reluctantly headed up to the barracks to share a meal with Hogan and his main team.

"I got a good report about the pet therapy from Doctor Stein." Hogan, whom we hadn't seen for hours, was seated at the common room table with us. I had no clue how he knew what was going on down below. He seemed to be everywhere, but nowhere. Maybe he had eyes in back of his head. Or a Bluetooth in his ear.

"Thank you," Ruth said politely.

"Do you have any pets?" Carter asked.

"We both have dogs." Ruth answered. "Both rescues."

"Oh, what kind?" Hogan took a sip of coffee.

"I have a Chihuahua mix and Ruth has a beagle." I took a sip and then grimaced. "This is worse than Starbucks." (1) I laughed.

"I have a beagle." O'Reilly was the official sentry on duty this evening. He was standing at the door and keeping an eye out for trouble. "Named Charlie."

"Mine is named Sammi," Ruth said.

LeBeau was whistling a tune as he brought over the plates. It sounded like the theme song from the _Andy Griffith Show._

_Oh, no_. "Nice tune," I mentioned. "Catchy."

"Got it from the colonel. Voilà." LeBeau put the plates down.

"Popped into my head one day," Hogan gave us a strange look and then took another sip of mud.

I didn't ask what we were eating. It appeared there was meat in there somewhere. I hoped it wasn't Carter's pet rabbit. Wait, did he have a pet rabbit? "Do you, uh, have any pets here?"

"Nope. But Olsen has a mutt at his house." Newkirk poked around his plate; then took a tentative bite. Ruth, seeing that Newkirk hadn't spit out his dinner, stabbed a piece with her fork and plopped it in her mouth.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Tastes like chicken."

I tried a piece. She was correct, although the texture was more like the inedible swiss steak I was once forced to eat in my college cafeteria.

Our pleasant dinner conversation continued, as the men politely asked us about our homes, families, and what our husbands did for a living.

Hogan got up from the table and took his plate over to the sink. "So," he said nonchalantly while walking back, "who won the '45 World Series?"

I detected a twinkle in his eye. _Here we go_. I wondered when the interrogations would start._ Not so fast, Colonel._

"To tell you the truth, I don't know. Ruth?"

My sister shook her head.

"You don't follow baseball?" Carter couldn't believe we didn't know the answer.

"Yes we do." Ruth lectured. "But that's a lot of World Series. We honestly don't know."

"Wouldn't tell you if we did." I grinned.

The next question came from Kinch. "Hey, did Roosevelt go for a 5th term?"

"Sorry, I can't answer that," I said firmly. "No information about the future. I thought you went over that with the first set of time travelers."

Hogan's face briefly clouded over. He had been told a few things, and was most likely recalling the conversation.

"You are right. Give up," he ordered his crew. "They won't tell us anything."

"Wait." I felt kind of sorry for his men, and for Hogan. He was in command, after all, and he most likely was holding in a terrible secret. (2) "I will tell you one thing and one thing only. Give me a minute. Ruth?"

We got up and went over to the sink, bringing our dishes with us. After conferring for a few minutes, we trekked back to the table.

"Okay. Here it is. I will tell you that someone in the future will break Babe Ruth's home run record!"

Newkirk and LeBeau shrugged, while Hogan, Carter and Kinch stared at us.

"No!" Carter exclaimed.

"Absolutely. But I won't tell you who or when!" I started clearing the rest of the table.

"I take it we're spending the night?" Ruth sighed.

"I'll get the dishes, ma'am." Carter jumped up. "Finish your coffee."

"No, thanks. It'll keep me up. So Colonel, is Ruth right?"

"Sorry, ladies." Hogan handed Carter his empty mug. "I'll talk to Klink again tomorrow morning." Seeing the distress evident in our faces, he tried to reassure us. "We'll get the watch back."

"What if he gave it away?" Ruth asked.

"Well, then…We'll make it worth his while to give it back." Hogan smiled. It was very charming, but I was still mad, and still scared.

"You, know…you never told us how you lost it in the first place," I grumbled.

"Well, it was kind of embarrassing."

"Carter!"

"Sorry, sir."

Kinch gave a slight chuckle, then remained quiet.

"All right. I guess you have a right to know. Sit down and I'll tell you what happened." Hogan waited for us to retake our seats. "It was just after New Year's," he began. "The last time one of you showed up."

* * *

(1) Apologies to anyone who likes Starbucks. I find it too bitter.

( (2) I think I recall that in one chapter of the original _Mary Sue Experiments_, Hogan was informed of the Holocaust (if I'm incorrect, let me know)


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

_Hogan had insisted on the visitor returning to the future immediately after she had been politely but firmly escorted into his office that cold Sunday morning. Seeing that another watch was now circulating amongst these well-intentioned but naïve history buffs, or rabid fans, a moniker he kept to himself, the colonel had told London in no uncertain terms, that the watch was to remain at Stalag 13. London reluctantly agreed, and despite the author's protests and attempts to engage in an intelligent conversation, the colonel sent her home. _

_Unfortunately for him, there was little warning as Klink showed up unannounced to conduct a surprise barracks inspection. _

"He thought he saw someone being sneaked into the barracks. Which was technically true. Your person popped into existence right outside barracks five. She was quickly surrounded by a group of guys coming back from religious services. To make matters even worse, now I have five more prisoners who think people can just pop in and out of here on a whim."

"In a sense, that's not far from the truth," I pointed out.

_The sentry at the door relayed the warning that Klink and several guards were heading over. Hogan had no time to place the watch back in its secure hiding place. Fearing a barracks search and a pat-down, he plopped it underneath his crush cap, which he had been wearing._

"_To what do I owe this pleasure, sir?" Hogan asked the Kommandant as he left the office. "You know, normally on Sunday mornings back home, we take a drive. Care to head towards France?"_

_Klink grunted and then glanced around the barracks. He headed towards Hogan's office and grunted again._

"_Colonel Hogan. I distinctly saw five men in a circle come into this building."_

"_You must be mistaken, Kommandant. Everyone here belongs here."_

_Unfortunately for everyone concerned, Schultz was on leave, and his replacement and the two other guards accompanying him, while amenable, were willing to do their job._

"_You two, search the barracks. Hogan. You and everyone else, outside for roll call!" Klink ordered._

_Hogan nodded. "You heard the man. Outside."_

_The men nervously shuffled outside and waited for the German guard to look at his clipboard and slowly call out their names. For once there was no monkey business, a fact that made Klink even more suspicious._

"_You all seem very agreeable this morning. No throwing off the count, Hogan?"_

"_It's no fun, sir, if Schultz isn't here. Okay, men fall…"_

"_Wait!" Klink walked up and down the line. "Is there a reason you want to go back inside so quickly?"_

_There was no guilty contraband in the barracks. Most clandestine material was down below, and the rest was hidden so well, some of __Hogan's __men couldn't find it. The only problem was the bunk entrance and a few modifications to the sink. And those had never been discovered. What would be found were illegal cooking utensils, written parodies and satirical drawings of Hitler and his inner circle, etc. Trojan horses, so to speak._

"_No, sir." Hogan and his men stayed at attention as the wheels in Klink's head began to slowly turn. _

"_You don't want to go back inside so quickly?" Klink began to pace up and down the line. "I see what's happening here. You tried to get back inside, but then you denied you wanted to go back inside, which means you are trying to fool me. But I'm too smart for you. You want me to think you want to go back inside, so I'll keep you out here. But what you really want is to stay outside!"_

_Klink's illogical ramblings were interrupted by the guards searching the barracks. They came out empty-handed except for one thing._

"_Nothing, sir," one reported. "Just the usual cooking utensils, and this very crude picture of the Fuehrer and Himmler and a…well you just have to see it for yourself."_

_The guard handed Klink a piece of paper. The Kommandant took a look and shuddered. He walked over to Hogan, tore the paper up in pieces and handed the mess to the colonel. "Dispose of this," he growled._

_Hogan let out a slight chuckle and then shut up as Klink glared at him. "Anything else, sir?"he finally asked the angry Kommandant._

"_No. Since you are so intent on staying outside, I want you to go inside. You're confined to the barracks for the rest of the day."_

_Hogan didn't argue. He started to dismiss the men, when Klink put a stop to what would only have been a close call._

"_Hold it! Search everyone."_

_The men moved back into place and Schultz's replacement patted each one down. He stopped in front of Hogan._

"_Sir, if you please," the guard asked._

_Hogan sighed and raised his hands. The guard gave him a cursory pat-down._

"_They're all clean, Kommandant."_

"_Very well. You're all dismissed." Klink turned and began to walk towards his office._

"And that's when it happened."

"What happened?" Ruth and Susan asked in unison.

"It blew off."

"Your cap blew off. I don't believe it. How could that happen?" Susan looked at Hogan, hoping for a reasonable explanation.

"When the guard was patting me down, I must have tipped it slightly. Just before I came into the hut, a gust of wind blew it off, and the watch went with it."

_The guard heard the telltale clink of something dropping, turned and picked up the watch. "Kommandant Klink! He is hiding something!"_

_Newkirk, watching this take place in what seemed like slow-motion, spied the pin on the ground behind the colonel. As Hogan moved forward, he deftly bent down, grabbed the pin and hid it._

"_Hogan, what's this?"_

"_That, Kommandant is a watch."_

"_I can see that. Why was it underneath your cap?"_

_Hogan licked his lips. "Well, it's obvious I was hiding it, sir."_

"_Yes, I know you were hiding it. Why?" Klink began turning the watch over and over in his hand. He seemed fascinated by it._

"_It means a lot to me," Hogan answered. "It's my grandmother's." He lowered his voice. "I didn't want your goons finding it and you know…stealing it." Hogan took his cap, brushed it off, and held it next to his heart. "It's the only thing I have left of her…" He sniffed. "Wonderful woman."_

"_This wasn't itemized in your inventory of personal belongings when you came into camp,"  
Klink insisted._

"_You have a great memory for detail, sir. That's been what, almost 3 years?"_

"_Don't try and distract me, Hogan. How did you get this?"_

"_Sent to me in a care package. As a memory and a good luck charm." Hogan held out his hand. "I'd like it back."_

"_No."_

"_No? That's personal property. The Geneva Convention…"_

"_No. There's something you're not telling me about this watch, Colonel Hogan. You'll get it back after I examine it further."_

"Oh, you're kidding, me." I silently let out a curse. "Don't tell me the watch played havoc with Klink's memory."

"It must have hit a nerve. Besides, I don't think he fell for my explanation." Hogan began to draw imaginary circles on the table. I could tell he was angry at himself.

"From what Susan told me," Ruth said sympathetically. "Klink isn't as gullible in real life as he was portrayed in the show."

"No. He's not. Which is why we always have to be on our toes. And I blew it."

"It could have happened to anyone, sir." Carter gave me a little smile. He was definitely an engaging young man.

"So then what?" I prodded Hogan to continue.

"Well, for several weeks, we went bonkers looking for the watch and at the same time we were swamped with work. We checked the office, the outer office, the safe. Klink's quarters, the property room. Every building in camp. Eventually we drugged Klink and checked him. Couldn't find it. I confronted him after that. And do you know, he refused to tell me where it was. I threatened to write a complaint to the Red Cross. But that didn't work. A snow job about him being sent to the frontlines didn't work. It's not here. It's one of the few times his lips have been sealed."

"Oh, God. He probably gave it to the Gestapo." Ruth was beginning to get freaked out. I could tell. And I wasn't too far behind.

"Hochstetter?"

"Fortunately for us, Mrs. Rubinstein…Hochstetter disappeared. We think he was probably killed in an air raid somewhere and never identified. He's been gone for a while now." LeBeau gave me a pat on the hand. (1)

"Klink most likely gave it to Burkhalter. I hinted at that several times, but he showed no reaction. Didn't even bat an eye."

Newkirk snickered. "Bat an eye. Good one, sir."

"I swear, it's if the man finally got some balls." Hogan shook his head. "Scary."

In response, I murmured, "Seeing the watch did hit a nerve. It's tickling his memory."

"Doesn't matter what caused it, now I really have to get it back."

Hogan sounded annoyed, which irked me, considering we didn't plan on coming here in the first place…and I didn't stupidly put the watch under my hat. Not wanting to annoy my protector any further, I wisely kept my mouth shut.

"What if you can't get it back right away?" Ruth asked in a trembling voice.

"After a while, we'll have to get you out of here. Probably have you go in hiding somewhere until we find it, or until we're liberated."

"I'd rather go to England and wait until you find out," Ruth said emphatically.

"Well that, Mrs. Balkin, isn't as easy as it sounds," Hogan replied. "Little things, like the front, and bombings, kind of get in the way. I won't send civilians, particularly female civilians from another time, that way. No, you may have to go into hiding. Not that hiding is much safer." The colonel sighed. "I'll go see Klink tomorrow morning. Maybe sleeping on it will give me some ideas." He got up and began to head for his office. That was our sign to head down below. The last thing we heard as Kinch escorted us over to the ladder, was Hogan saying…"It's always something."

(1) At the end of the original "Mary Sue Experiments," Hogan, Klink and Hochstetter ended up in our time. As I recall, Hochstetter was taken into captivity. For the purposes of this story, he never made it back to the 1940's.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Rise and shine, Mesdames. It's 0530."

"Urrgh." I heard Ruth say.

I pulled the blanket over my head and turned towards the wall.

"That's 5:30 for you civilians. I have hot tea for you."

"Is that a.m. or p.m?" I groaned. My mind full of cobwebs, I pulled off the blanket and slowly opened my eyes. "Oh, shit." I thought I had been dreaming.

"Get up Ruth. We're still in Oz."

"Urrgh."

I got off the cot, grumbled a good morning to our cheerful French wake-up call, and gave my sister a small shove.

"I'm coming…I'm coming." Ruth was not a morning person.

"This could take a while," I told LeBeau. "LeBeau est ici. Maintenant. Avec du tee." Hopefully my pigeon French would get her moving.

It worked. "Oh, shit." _Ruth and I think alike_. "I thought I was dreaming." Ruth groaned again.

"Me, too."

"I also have toast." LeBeau gave us a warm smile and set the plates down on the small table serving as our nightstand.

I put on my glasses and asked him. "You have roll-call already?"

"Oui. Some men go back to sleep, but as they say, it's time to make the donuts."

"You have donuts?" Ruth asked hopefully.

"Non, madame. It's just an expression. Comprends? Comme, Be all that you can be. Or here's a good one. "Finger lickin' good." (1)

"I comprends all too well. You should go into advertising." I picked up a piece of toast and took a bite. It was actually pretty good.

"Non. I will be a chef, in my famous Paris restaurant. Besides I can't take credit for those. They're American. Colonel Hogan probably heard them on the radio."

"Why don't you call your restaurant, "Ratatouille?" Ruth suggested. (2)

"Hmm. I will think that over."

"Sooner or later Hogan and his pop-culture trivial pursuit will blow up in our faces." Ruth warned me as we were tying our boots. "And then what are you going to do?"

"Confirm the truth that he came into the future… or at least what he knows," I said.

"And Klink, too?"

"I'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. I wish I had a white cap."

"A what?"

"A white nurse's cap. With a stripe. I always wanted one when I was little. Like Cherry Ames. (3) She went to war, you know." I tucked in my shirt, tied my rope belt and ran my fingers through my now filthy hair.

"I thought you were into the Bobbsey Twins?" (4) Ruth straightened my collar, and then sneezed.

I waited…She sneezed two more times. Allergies.

"Handkerchief?"

"Got one." She blew her nose. "Ready?"

"Yeah," I said sullenly. I really wanted to confront Hogan about the watch. Truthfully, after my epiphany and history lesson last night, I was panicking. We needed that watch back, before we ended up as casualties, or worse. I was trying not to alarm Ruth, but I was beyond frightened. 'You know," I said quietly as we made our way over to the rescued soldiers, "maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Hogan remembered. That way, he might know what happened, or where the watch is, or…"

"Or, chances are, he was eventually found, parked in front of a TV, with only two channels, Nickelodeon and TV Land, (5) and kept away from the computer. Can you imagine? Or," Ruth continued…"He came to go after Klink, found Klink and being as smart as Hogan is, he knew not to look at the history books, because, that could affect the future and he got sent back…or maybe his curiosity got the better of him, or he wasn't found right away, which could be a real bummer, because once he found out that 40 to 50 million people were killed and that the end eventually led to the Cold War, and the Berlin Wall, and the Iron Curtain, and McCarthyism, he fell into a terrible depression…

"Now you're rambling." We turned the corner and checked in with the medical staff. I went back to my nursing, while Ruth started food duty, and our second day in 1945 began. What Ruth was saying didn't seem so far-fetched. If Hogan was wandering around for a while, he very well might have seen or heard something. Heck, he was in D.C. He didn't have much money in his pocket and the museums were free. What would make more sense than for him to spend some hours wandering around the Smithsonian? The Air and Space museum to be exact. "Oy," I said out loud.

"Something wrong, ma'am?"

"I'm fine, corporal. How are you feeling today?"

"Bit better," the young soldier answered. "I kept everything down this morning."

"That's great." I took out my thermometer. "Can you stick this under your tongue?" While checking my watch, I continued concocting ever-weirder and scarier scenarios for Hogan's trip in my head. What if he went to the Holocaust Museum? I shuddered at that possibility. The Vietnam War Memorial. The World War Two Memorial. Maybe he got hungry and just hung out at the Cheesecake Factory? No, he wouldn't be able to afford it. I know, he… "No, he didn't…I bet I know where he went!"

"Who, ma'am?"

"Oh, 99 degrees. That's better than yesterday! I'll be right back." I scrambled to find Ruth. "I figured out where he went," I announced triumphantly.

"Where?"

"Back to the beginning! The archives!" I was now ready for Nicholas Cage to come barreling through the tunnels, looking for secrets. (6)

'You're so clever! That makes perfect sense. So what do you intend to do with the information?"

"Nothing," I answered forlornly. "He was obviously sent back here at the exact time he left for a reason. So he wouldn't remember. And if we screw around with that…If he remembers on his own, that's one thing. But we can't tell him."

"You got my hopes up and then…But you're right. He'll find the watch. He's clever and now he has an incentive to get it back right away. Sometimes when you're back is against the wall, you perform better." Ruth turned and went back to her soup kettle.

It was nothing less than frustrating, infuriating, and frightening to have our life in someone else's hands. But for the moment, there was nothing we could do.

* * *

Some of the soldiers recuperating in the tunnels were beginning to talk, which was a good sign that they were improving.

"They gave us one-hour to pack, and then we left. Eventually, the stuff we grabbed got too heavy and we started shedding supplies. The line was miles long. Thousands of guys. The only ones left in the camp were some medics, a few guards, and some really sick guys. And some SS. They told us we had to leave. The guards weren't happy, but they had to come with us."

I was assisting one of the medics as he was checking a private's frostbitten feet. Fortunately, the medic said, the private was on the road to recovery.

I handed the medic a bandage. "So, Jim…" I was now on a first name basis with some of these men. They intuitively knew Ruth and I were civilians. Of course, they insisted on using ma'am, or miss. "What did you do for food?"

"We carried what we could. We had to choose between extra coats and firewood and food. Food won. And then we stole…" He paused. "None of us felt good about it. Civilians were everywhere. They were trying to run from the Russians, too, I guess. We kept trudging and trudging. You can't even think," he said. "It was too cold, and we were too hungry. We weren't in great shape to start out with, you know."

"I know." I helped cover Jim with a few blankets.

"And then…" he said quickly. He didn't want me to leave, so I sat down.

"Go on."

"At night we parked wherever there was shelter. It depended where in the line you were. Some of us spent one night in a barn. Then there was the train station. We were all over the place. The platform, the office…Some civilians brought us and the guards some broth there. But in another town…it was bombed…the guards had to guard us from the civilians." He let out a small laugh. "Our guards were our protectors then. Go figure."

"How long were you marching?"

He looked at me with haunted eyes. "I don't know, ma'am. What's the date?"

"February 19th."

With little emotion, the soldier replied, "over a month. Since the beginning of January."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be, ma'am. We're not the worst off." He glanced around the tunnel. The chat seemed to be a catharsis, and he continued. "The line began to separate, you see. There were gaps. Sometimes men would get bogged down in snow or mud. Sometimes, they'd slow down because some of us were getting sick, or worse. A few of the guards weren't too patient, and they'd start beating or shooting. Eventually, they got us to a rail yard. And loaded us on boxcars. I don't know what was worse. Walking in the freezing cold and snow, or trapped inside the cars. We started a system. Some of us would stand on the edge, where we could get a bit of air, and the rest would take the floor in the middle. Then we switched. We'd have to throw the buckets of waste out the bars on the windows. And then we got trapped in an air raid. That's how we got away. We were lucky the guards opened the doors and told us to get out. There were ditches on the side of the road."

Appalled, I asked. "The bombers didn't know there were POW's in there?"

He shook his head. "There was nothing painted on the cars. We all ran in all different directions. The guards, the train engineers and us. I know some of us, and some of the guards got killed. After the raid, it was chaos. They tried to corral us up, but a lot of us got away. We hid in barns, a church, a cave…all over the place. And then we started moving at night. Look." He pulled out a tiny folded piece of paper. "I still had this. We were given these before going ashore on D-Day." He handed me the paper, which I unfolded. It was made of silk, I thought, and on there, was a map of Germany and the border countries. "Just in case," he said. "So we knew how to get out."

"So then, how did you get here?" I handed Jim a glass of water. He took a swallow and then continued his story.

"A group of us were found by some civilians who turned us over to the underground. Eventually, they managed to find a lot of us. They knew about the bombing of the train, and so they were keeping an eye out for POW's. We traveled a bit and then ended up here." (7)

"You were all very lucky." I took the glass back, and patted his arm.

"Yes, ma'am."

I could see he was tiring, so I rearranged his blankets. He gratefully settled down to rest, while I continued on to the next young man. I hoped either Hogan could get these men out and safely to Allied lines; otherwise, they had a long and uncertain wait until these region was secure. Not knowing what happened to this sub-camp was still worrying me, but I couldn't let it stop me from my duties. Keeping busy kept my mind off of what was going on outside the safe confines of Luftstalag 13, and that damn watch.

At lunchtime, Ruth and I were again reunited and marched up top. This time, we were allowed to stand a short while outside of Barracks two. Like the day before, the air was cold and crisp, but welcome. In deference to our sensitive 21st century health and disposition, as Carter explained it, while we were dining, smoking was banned in the hut.

"The first non-smoking section," Ruth joked. None of the men found it as funny as we did. Ruth had been thinking while we were down below and she threw out some of her ideas, while we were waiting for Hogan to join us. Today, LeBeau had prepared a potato and leek soup. In order to give larger portions to the men in the barracks, Ruth and I ate sparingly.

"Truth serum," Ruth offered.

"First, madame, we don't have any. And second, it doesn't work too well," LeBeau explained. "Do you still use that? I'm surprised."

I gagged. "You all right?" Carter patted me on the back.

"Yes. In answer to your question, Louis. It's used for medical procedures, I think. Not for truth serum. Only in detective stories, spy stories, and one of your episodes." (8)

"Really?"Carter asked eagerly. "Which one? On who? Did it work?"

I chuckled. "Don't recall which one, but, no, it didn't work. But you got enough information to figure out where the factory was hidden."

"Force." Ruth made a face. "Not that violence is a solution. But what if you threaten Klink with something? Like sending him to the Russian front. Or an escape."

We all sat there, mulling Ruth's suggestion over.

"There is really no Russian front anymore. I think the Russians have entered Poland by now. But that's not a bad idea, Ruth. It would have to be a subtle warning. But," I added, "you would have to connect the watch somehow."

At that moment, Hogan interrupted our planning session.

"Afternoon." He grabbed a mug, filled it with coffee and took a seat. "No thanks, LeBeau. I grabbed a bit at the mess. I'm going over to see Klink this afternoon. Do you have any ideas about the watch?"

"Yes!" Ruth was excited. "I think I thought of something. Of course it needs plenty of work, and you'd have to figure out most of it, but it's something."

Hogan smiled. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

* * *

(1) Dunkin Donuts, The army, and Kentucky Fried Chicken

(2) "Ratatouille" by Walt Disney Pictures, c. 2007 (cute movie)

(3) Series of children's mysteries about a nurse. By Helen Wells

(4) By Laura Lee Hope (pen name)

(5) Maybe he watched _Hogan's Heroes_. Cut to pieces of course.

(6) See the movie "The National Treasure" and if someone takes up the original MSE where it leaves off, obviously, you don't have to have Hogan heading for the archives. That is just my guess.

(7) Jim's story is drawn from my research on POW's and the many websites, books, and memoirs that I have read over the last few years.

_(8) At Last Schultz Knows Something_


	12. Chapter 12

_chapter 12_

_"_One word," Ruth said as we crammed around the small table in Hogan's office. "Self-preservation."

"That's two words." Carter interjected.

"No, it's one word. That's hyphenated." Newkirk shook his head. "Don't mind him, miss. Spelling's not his strong suit."

"Technically speaking; is a hyphenated word considered one or two words?" Now Kinch was getting into the conversation.

"Does it really matter?" I was getting impatient. Half my family had OCD tendencies and it annoyed me. Especially when it was not important.

"No, it doesn't really matter," Hogan said calmly. "Please continue."

"Klink cares about self-preservation, over anything. Am I right?" Ruth turned to Hogan.

"Fair assumption," he replied.

"Then why haven't you used that to get the watch back? Go after his primal instinct. Get underneath his skin, psychologically, without him realizing it. Little threats. Maybe a mass escape to ruin his record. Or…maybe. Russian Front. Etcetera and so, forth." Ruth gave the colonel a triumphant look. "See?"

Hogan started to smile. I could see it. He then stopped. "You really think it's that easy, don't you?" He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and waited for our response.

"Go ahead." I poked Ruth. "It was your idea."

I was beginning to feel chastened. Ruth's enthusiasm at lunch had rubbed off on me and the thought of actually contributing to our own rescue got me a bit excited; even if was only to give Hogan a heads-up and wait for his compliments. Our bubble burst and I could see Ruth sort of deflate. Frankly, I now knew how Ralphie felt in _The Christmas Story_ when his teacher returned his theme. Except Hogan didn't write: you'll shoot your eye out, and hand us a C+.

"Coward," she whispered in my ear.

I have to give the man credit. He didn't yell. I guess that was a sign of a good officer. Come to think of it, my dad had been an officer in the Royal Navy, and he didn't yell either. But one look and he'd have us with the proverbial lump in the throat. As for Hogan, well, here he was, in the middle of what was the tail-end of the war, faced with a load of sick men, missing rations, and freezing weather. Not to mention the fear, terror, and uncertainty. And the spy thing. And just what he needed to make his life miserable was seated right across from him. Two middle-aged women from the future, whose fate he held in his hands and whose fate he may have sealed because, he lost the stupid watch. And who actually thought they could hand him a plot on a platter because they watched the stupid sitcom that should have been titled, "who in their right mind would have put this thing on television in the first place."

"Klink most likely doesn't have the watch anymore," Hogan said solemnly. "Not only was he suspicious of it because I was hiding it, but he got this gut feeling inside of him. Something told him it was more than just a lucky heirloom. He most likely handed it over to someone for testing. But, sometimes it's easier to attract flies with honey."

"I tell my kids that."

"Klink is not a child, Mrs. Rubinstein. Depending on the circumstances, it's better to stroke his ego."

And so, Hogan, carrying a stack of paperwork, left for Klink's office, while Ruth and I, accompanied by the gang of four, Olsen, and several other men from the barracks, crowded around the coffee pot. Yes, the coffee pot!

"You're joking. You actually use this thing?" Ruth peered into the interior.

"It doesn't make coffee, if that's what you're wondering," Kinch noted as he hooked it up.

"You kept complaining about that on the show," I told him.

"That's absolutely ludicrous," Olsen answered.

"I'm insulted," O"Reilly piped up. "Like we wouldn't know what's what."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't appear in the show.

We heard the sound of a door opening, and an unidentified male announcing Hogan's arrival.

"_Ah, Colonel Hogan. You're early."_ _We heard the sound of papers rustling._

"_I am?"_

Hogan's voice had changed to a higher in pitch. I felt temporarily triumphant, as I had mentioned this in my fanfics, as well as pointing it out on the forums. When he and Werner were in a scene together, Bob Crane had done the same thing; at least I thought he had.

"_Yes, fourteen minutes early_." Klink sounded annoyed.

"_Nice toupee sir. I'm sorry I'm early. I used to have a watch."_

"_Where's your wristwatch. Hogan?"_

"_On my wrist. But it stopped. See. You have the one that works."_

_Klink grunted._ "_Borrow one. I have a mound of paperwork to go over with you. Sit down."_

_A few moments later, Klink spoke again. "I need more work details to fix up the rest of the unoccupied barracks. Double shifts. And I have nothing to offer in exchange. Your precious Allies are disrupting the delivery of Red Cross packages. But, if you give me the men, the new prisoners will have a dry place to stay."_

"_How many new prisoners, sir?"_ _Hogan's voice had deepened a bit_.

"_Here's my report from Burkhalter. It just came in this morning_."

_Hogan took in an audible deep breath. "I'll get my staff right on it." _

With that, two men disappeared went over to the filing cabinet and removed some paperwork. They took it out into the common room.

"_What about the woods, sir?"_

"_I'm trying to locate a patch. The civilians have been chopping down whatever remains. If I find one, I'll let you know. And then I'll have to get permission to let your men out that far."_

"_You're going to let the SS dictate where you can have us go under guard?" Hogan's voice rose angrily._

"_Yes!"_ _Klink's retort was sharp. "You don't know what's at stake! I can't…"_

There was an air of tension in the silence that followed. We were holding our breath.

"_Have you been threatened_?" _Hogan asked quietly several moments later._

"_No," Klink answered firmly. He seemed to have regained his composure. "Not in those words," he added. "But, I'm warning you…." I could almost see his finger wagging at Hogan. "Things are not what they seem. And the Luftwaffe protection and your men's lifestyle here can change at a moment's notice. And it can affect us all."_

LeBeau, who was jotting notes down on a pad of paper, looked up. "Klink knows about the evacuations, and he's scared."

_Hogan spoke. "Well, I have men on call 24/7 to chop wood, if you need them."_

_Klink sighed_. "_Do you have anything else to report, Hogan?"_

"_Sick call."_

"_I see."_ _There was a slight pause. Klink must have been glancing at the report._ "_There is not much I can do to help your doctor. We have sick as well."_

"_I'd like permission to rearrange barrack assignments. Dr. Stein would like to be able to quarantine prisoners."_

"_Granted. Let Schultz know, and then have him bring over the new assignments."_

"_Thank you."_

"_Very well. If that's all, you're dismissed."_

How hard and degrading it must be to take orders from an enemy of the same rank. And one you probably did not respect, at that. Or at least respect militarily. I'm sure Hogan appreciated Klink's humanity. It was in there, somewhere. I felt like I had heard it. But I just couldn't imagine all the thousands of young men, locked up in these prisons, for months, if not years.

We heard the sound of the office door opening. Then a pause. I held my breath, as I hoped Hogan would have the wherewithal to bring up the watch again, despite the disconcerting conversation that had taken place between him and Klink.

"_Kommandant, while I'm here, and so I don't disturb you again, I do have something else."_

"_What is it? And thank you for not threatening to come back in the near future. I am already developing a headache."_

"_We need props."_

"_For what?"_

"_Another show."_

"_You just had one, last month_."

"_Keeps the men busy, sir. Takes their mind off of things. And you have to admit, you enjoyed it. The follies of 45. Yes, it was worthy of Broadway. You said so yourself. In your review. The men framed it. It's hanging up in the rec hall."_

I didn't recall seeing the review on our rec hall tour. But it's possible I missed it. Or Hogan was lying.

"_Well, I did get a laugh seeing the men dressed up as women and trying to perform a kick line,"_ _Klink admitted._ "_What's this month's show?_"

"_Alice in Wonderland. Would you like to be in it? We have the perfect part. Repeat after me. I'm late."_

"_I'm late."_

"_I'm late."_

"_I'm late."_

"_For a very important date."_

"_For a very important date?"_

"_Yes, date. You're doing fine, Kommandant. Put more oomph into it! Say this. No time to say "Hello." / Goodbye."_

"_No time to say "Hello." / Goodbye."_

"_I'm late, I'm late, I'm late."_

" _I'm late, I'm late, I'm late."_

"Good grief," I exclaimed.

"That's a different play," Ruth told me. "About Charlie Brown."

"_Beautiful diction. Now,"_ _Hogan continued_. _"You know, sir. You have one of the best voices in camp."_

"_I do?"_

"_Absolutely," Hogan replied. "Do you think you can put that in a sing-song?"_

"Actually," Carter turned to us. "Klink really can carry a tune."

"_Well I don't know. I can work on it,"_ _Klink said._

"_Wonderful. But we need my watch. It's perfect for the white Rabbit. Just for the play."_

"_Oh, of course, Hogan. I'll…" There was a pause. "Wait one moment!" Klink bellowed. "How stupid do you think I am?"_


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

_It's been a while, so here is a quick recap. Being a skeptic, I thought the watch was fake. But tragically, my sister, Ruth accidentally set it off, and we found the two of us transported to the woods outside Stalag 13. Luckily, we were found by my favorite extra, Sgt. Olsen and taken to the camp. It is Feb. 1945, and the tunnels are being used as a temporary hospital for scores of sick and malnourished soldiers rescued from a forced march. We find out that Hogan, after sending some other authors back, lost the watch to Klink, who confiscated it after a surprise roll call. Hogan is upset and annoyed to have other authors down there, but is grateful to get our help with the sick POW's. He doesn't blame us, however, as due to our utter terror, he buys our story that our time travel was an accident. We also discover that he doesn't recall his and Klink's trip to the future. We are concerned with his out of the blue remarks and tunes that appear to come from our pop culture. Hogan's men have been searching for the watch for weeks, despite their endless amount of work. Hogan tries one more time to get Klink to give up the watch (chapter 12), but Klink isn't as stupid as he appears to be. And here we are..._

Our hopes now crushed by Klink's moment of sanity and insight, we sat dejectedly around the common room table, waiting for Hogan to return. Meanwhile, another prisoner was in Hogan's office, monitoring Klink and his phone, just in case the Kommandant panicked and made a call.

The door to the barracks swung open, and in Hogan walked. Giving us a sheepish grin and a shrug, he said nothing as he entered his office and shut the door. A moment later, the phone monitor came out, closing the door behind him.

"Give him a moment," Kinch said knowingly. "This doesn't happen too often, but when it does, he has to get over it."

"How long?" Ruth sniffed.

"Depends on the severity of the issue, and the complexity of the plan, ma'am. More coffee?" Carter offered.

"No." Ruth put her head down on her arms. I couldn't tell if she was crying, but I placed my hand on her back and rubbed. She lifted her head and gave me a look.

"Not my fault," I mumbled.

Hogan's door swung open and he strode into the common room as if nothing more had happened than Klink turning down a request for more electricity. He began to pace. "We need a plan B."

Ruth looked up and glared at the colonel. "Take a gun in there and threaten to shoot him if he doesn't turn over the watch."

Hogan stopped. "Great idea…except for the following. Where did we get the gun? Why do we want the watch so badly, and what happens to me and everyone else after Klink yells for the guards and starts a camp wide inspection and investigation." He looked right at Ruth as he said that. And he continued to look at Ruth for what appeared to be a minute.

"Why are you looking at me?" She asked.

"Yes, why are you looking at her like that?" I repeated.

Hogan ignored us. "LeBeau. Newkirk. Come here."

LeBeau had been standing over by the stove. He walked over to Hogan and stood next to him. Newkirk followed.

"Can you make Mrs. Balkin look like she comes from this decade?"

I didn't like where this was heading, and I said so.

Hogan paid no attention to me as he waited for the corporals' answers.

Newkirk and LeBeau walked around Ruth, who was now standing; ready to freak out.

"Hair, no problem," Newkirk said, checking off a mental checklist. "Clothes, not an issue."

"Glasses have to go," LeBeau pointed out.

At this, Ruth found the nerve to speak up. "I'm blind without them."

"Keep them. Hopefully, he won't notice," Hogan said.

"He?" Ruth whispered.

At this I stood up. "Listen to me, Robert!". I didn't care who he was, but he was obviously contemplating using my sister and her language skills, which meant putting her in danger. I wasn't having any of it. At my use of his first name, a collective intake of breath could be heard throughout the barracks. He didn't react. I now gave him a poke.

"Hey!" I said. "Don't ignore me."

This time, I could have sworn someone in one of the bunks, whispered Jesus. At that, everyone sat up, waiting to see what would happen.

Hogan turned around. "Don't you want to wait and see what I have in mind first, before you start in with me?"

I looked at him, and then looked at Ruth. She nodded.

"Fair enough," I sat back down.

"We may have to jog Klink's memory. And if we send in a woman speaking only French, he may recall a similar scenario from a few years ago." (1)

"You had someone speaking French?" Ruth, who hadn't read the original story, asked.

"It was a mess." Hogan ran his hand through his hair. "But this is worth a shot. You'll be a collaborator, so nothing will happen to you. We'll have you come in with one of our French contacts. You don't speak English and Klink doesn't speak French very well. And then I'll come in and start the ball rolling. If he starts showing signs of recollection, I can take it from there. And then hopefully, we can have Klink retrieve the watch, somehow. Or at least we'll know where it is, and we can steal it."

Before Hogan's plot could move forward, we were interrupted by the corporal who had been assigned to listen in on the coffee pot.

"Excuse me, sir. Klink's called for a staff car, but no driver."

"Scratch Plan B," Hogan said quickly. "LeBeau, sneak into Klink's trunk and see where he goes." LeBeau headed for the door. Newkirk followed the Frenchman out to create a diversion. Both Ruth and I looked at Hogan, who said, "I bet Klink's going to check on the watch. Hopefully, we'll figure out where it is and steal it back."

"What happens when he finds out the watch is missing?" I asked Hogan.

"That's not a problem," Hogan replied. "We already have a fake made up. We'll just make a switch." At that, Hogan went into his office and the rest of us scattered. Kinch headed down to the radio room.. Newkirk returned after seeing LeBeau safely into the car trunk. He then began to work on fitting Ruth with 1940's outfit, just in case. And I headed back down into the tunnels to tend to my nursing duties.

Approximately two hours later, LeBeau returned through the tunnel entrance. He stopped Newkirk, who was busy pinning the dress that Ruth was wearing. "Well?" Newkirk asked.

LeBeau grinned. "Success," he said and he headed upstairs. We all followed. "It was in a safety deposit box in the bank," LeBeau told us. "Klink took it out, examined it, put it in his pocket and left. I followed him to a jewelry store where he had someone examine the watch. Then he went to a pay phone and made a call. After that, he got to the car. I just managed to get into the trunk in the nick of time. He drove to a park on the other side of town and guess who he met with?" LeBeau said triumphantly.

"Don't make us guess, LeBeau," Hogan ordered. "Just tell us the rest of the story."

"Herr Blauch, his Swiss banker."

"Figures," Hogan said as he shook his head. "He's out for the money." He smiled and then chuckled.

"The watch is now in Switzerland!" I squealed. "Oh my God."

"Oh, no, Madame," LeBeau reassured me. "It is in the hands of Klink's Swiss banker. He took the watch and gave Klink a receipt."

"Hold on," Hogan stopped LeBeau. "Klink's been dealing with this banker for a while," Hogan explained. "He's been skimming some funds from here and there to set up a stash. See, he knows the Germans are going to lose and he's planning for the future. So, LeBeau, Blauch now has the watch?"

"Oui," LeBeau replied. "I ditched Klink and followed the Blauch. It's probably still in the safe in his apartment."

"Don't tell me, Colonel; you've already been in this guy's apartment?"

"Not only have we been in his apartment, Susan…but we have an account as well!" Hogan patted my shoulder. "Tonight, we'll start surveillance, and then get the watch." He turned to Ruth and myself. "You two better head down below. Keep busy, and let us take it from here."

Ruth and I obeyed. For the first time since we arrived, we were hopeful that soon, we would be heading home.

(1) The original Mary Sue Experiments. It's been a while, but I think someone was speaking French. And I don't recall if Klink knew the authors were from the future, but he would associate the women with watch.


	14. Chapter 14

That night, Hogan, Newkirk, and Carter, dressed as civilians, left the camp, and headed out to try and retrieve the watch. We were not told how they planned on doing this, but just to wait in the tunnels and to try and keep busy.

Keeping busy was the last thing on my mind while we waited for the three to return. Thoughts of complications and what could possibly go wrong kept swimming through my head. My nerves were making me a wreck. This led me to talk…constantly.

"What if this Swiss guy cleaned out his safe and left?" I was bothering Kinch at the moment. LeBeau has already grabbed Ruth to exchange memories of Paris or something.

"If that happens, we'll come up with another plan." Kinch was too polite to ditch me, but I could see he was getting annoyed.

"You have contacts in Switzerland?" I asked. Realizing that was a dumb question, I apologized.

'Look…I know you're nervous. Why don't you go to bed?"

It was 10 o'clock.

"Would you be able to sleep if you were in our predicament? Actually, I bet you stay up all hours when some of you are out on a mission."

Kinch turned and gave me a small smile. "You're correct. It's hard waiting around." He then went back to cleaning his equipment.

I decided then to forget about the mission and conduct some research. Hopefully, I would get some answers.

"Was this operation started on purpose or by accident?"

Kinch turned to me again and asked, "What do you mean on purpose or by accident?"

"Did the Allies set this up beforehand and drop Colonel Hogan in, or did he…um…seize the opportunity?" I asked.

"Opportunity."

"Okay." I tried to think of another question, but was interrupted by one of the medics.

"We could use your help, ma'am…while you're waiting."

"Of course." Thanking Kinch, I followed the medic back into the tunnels. Everything seemed quiet. I surmised the medics were trying to keep me busy.

I spied Ruth handing out more blankets. "Here, you can help," she said as soon as she saw me.

"No problem." I took a pile of the itchy woolen blankets and started to tuck some of the men in.

"I heard you may be leaving us, ma'am," one of them said. He propped himself up on his arm.

"Hopefully. We don't belong here."

"No, ma'am." He replied. "But it's been nice having you here."

I couldn't help but smile. "Thanks. Here put this up to your chin. It's chilly."

"The dogs are down!" Ruth said happily. We both rushed over and were greeted by wet kisses.

"Come on," I said after LeBeau deposited them in our care. "Over here." I patted my thigh and they obediently followed. After getting them settled, Ruth and I went over to our cots.

"Should we get changed?" She whispered.

"I think that's putting the horse before the cart. Don't you think?"

"If they don't come back with the watch…I think I'll have a nervous breakdown," she answered.

"Join the club."

We were interrupted by the arrival of Captain Stein. "How are you two making out?" he asked jovially.

Ruth shrugged and I mumbled, "fine, I guess."

"Well, tomorrow we are moving a few more men up top. Thanks to your care, and with the help of the dogs, I think we are making some extra progress. Woman's touch!" He winked.

We accepted the chauvinistic compliment nicely. No point in dealing with sexism in this time period. Besides, I do think we had helped.

"I know you two are antsy. Do you want something to help you sleep? There's no telling when they'll be back."

Not willing to take any chances with 1940's pharmaceuticals, I declined, as did Ruth.

"Good. I don't believe in taking medicine if it's not necessary. But do let me know if you need anything. I'll be down here all night."

We thanked the captain and tried to get comfortable, but it was colder than the previous night. So cold and damp, that Ruth and I ended up on the same cot to try to keep warm. LeBeau took pity on us.

"You poor things. So cold. Come up. We'll sneak you into the colonel's office. It's warmer up there.

I protested. "You know what Colonel Hogan said. We need to stay below."

Ruth agreed, although she was shivering. "Too dangerous," she chattered. "Not for the whole night."

"No. Don't be concerned. We've hid all sorts of people in that room. Besides, when he comes back with the watch, you'll have to change back into your cute pajamas."

Kinch had overheard part of the conversation and gave his okay. "Go ahead. Can't have you two coming down with pneumonia. You'll blab to the others about how we didn't take care of you properly." He smiled.

With Kinch's okay, we gave in and headed up top. It appeared, like us, the men in the barracks were nervously waiting for the team to return. Despite the hour, no one was asleep. Several were reading in their bunks, reminding me of my youth, when I would be up way past my bedtime, using a flashlight to read under my covers. There were plenty flashlights to go around. A couple of men were playing solitaire, while a game of candlelight gin was going on at the table.

LeBeau hustled us into the office and pointed to the bunks.

"They were trying to share one narrow cot to keep warm," LeBeau explained to the two officers using the top two bunks.

"Sorry to disturb you," Ruth apologized. "But they insisted we wait here."

"No problem, ma'am." One of the officers hopped down, handing us his extra blanket.

I checked out the bottom bunk. "We can fit together on the bottom," I said. "It's wider." And so, here we were, sharing Hogan's quarters with two lieutenants. Eventually, we dozed off.

" Ladies, wake up. They're back."

LeBeau was shaking us both awake. Ruth and I jumped off the bunk, narrowly missing bumping our heads. The lieutenants in the two upper bunks followed.

"Does he have it?" Ruth asked LeBeau.

"Don't know. I just got word from one of the lookouts that they were heading towards the tree stump. Stay in here."

The lieutenants, who did not know we were from the future, followed LeBeau out of the office.

Not wanting to get changed, Ruth and I paced around the office for several minutes.

A moment later, he returned with a broad grin on his face. "I told you they wouldn't let you down."

"Oh, thank you." I started crying in relief, as I gave the Frenchman a hug.

Olsen poked his head in. "You ladies may want these." He handed us our pajamas. "Get changed. They'll be right up."

"Everyone clear the barracks," I heard Hogan order. Through the door, we could hear the men drop down from their bunks. It became really quiet and then there was a knock at the door.

"Evening," Hogan said, as we let him in.

He was standing there, a broad grin on his face. Kinch, Olsen, LeBeau, Newkirk, and Carter were behind him. Hogan and his team had taken the time to put their uniforms back on.

"Oh, thank you. I hope it wasn't too difficult." I said.

"Not too hard, ma'am," Carter said.

"Just a few close calls," Newkirk added.

Hogan glanced at our pajamas. "You two ready to go home?"

"Yes," we both said.

He handed over the watch and the pin. "Set it. Oh, and before you go. One order. Don't send this out to anyone. Please."

"Colonel, I swear I won't send this out to anyone. I promise."

He nodded. The next moment was a bit awkward as I prepared to set the watch back to the time we left my house.

"Um, thanks for your hospitality," Ruth broke ranks and gave LeBeau a hug.

"Merci, madame." He kissed the back of her hand.

Hogan held out his hand. "Thanks for your help down below."

I took his hand. "You be careful, okay? Bye guys." I waved.

"We are always careful," Hogan replied seriously. "And you two…have a nice life."

* * *

"Ugh. I call the shower!" was the first thing I said, once Ruth and I realized the watch had indeed worked, and we were back home.

"I need some real coffee." Ruth headed for the kitchen.

After we had cleaned ourselves up, we sat around the kitchen table and contemplated what had happened.

"I'm taking the watch and putting it in Mike's vise. Smoosh."

"Are you sure you really want to do that?" Ruth asked.

"No." I was being honest. I sighed.

"Still want to file an FOIA request?" Ruth asked. (_freedom of information act)_

"Definitely. I want to find out what happened. It's crazy, that after all the research I've done, there's no mention of the sub camp, the operation, the men. Nothing. They've kept it under wraps. And considering the CIA was involved when the original time travelers returned, I'm not surprised. I just hope they all survived the war."

"Maybe," Ruth said. "Maybe we should notify the CIA that there are other watches out there." Ruth and I had already figured that out. I had no plans to send the watch to anyone, and since Hogan had said people had dropped in before us, there had to be other watches involved. That was the only logical explanation.

"Well. Starting to poke around should gain their attention. Don't you think?" I was almost gleeful at the prospect.

"Oh, yeah!" Ruth rubbed her hands together. "I love a nice juicy mystery! We can start tomorrow."

"Yes." I bent down and gave my dog the last piece of my sandwich. "Tomorrow."

_The end_

_I'm not sending the watch to anyone. Hogan doesn't need any more of this, and our little trip was terrifying, and uncomfortable. WW2 is bad enough in the movies and in books. Don't go._

_But…It is obvious that other watches exist. I mean, Oboe found one in a collection, I recall. So there has to be more out there that are found by us authors. And some of you do show up, as Hogan said. So anyone is free to continue the story._

_And: We still don't know what happened to the operation and if they survived. We don't know what Hogan did when he was in the future (besides watching a little TV), nor how he and Klink got back. Obviously something made Klink forget about all the women, and the fiasco that took place in the original story. Hogan doesn't recall being in the future. So those questions remain to be answered. So…who's next to take this up?_


End file.
